Street Game (GhostWalkers #8)(56)
Author: Christine Feehan

Mack covered Jaimie’s plate carefully and made certain the men could see his intention to harm anyone trying to come near it. “I don’t fight with my woman, Ethan,” he replied. “There’s no percentage in it.”

Kane snorted derisively but subsided when Mack turned a cold eye on him. Mack wedged another chair up to the table right across from Paul. He sank into it and took his first bite of the lasagna.

Kane grinned at the look on his face. “You’re right, Mack. No one can mess up Jaimie’s sauce. The girl can cook.”

Mack did justice to the food, all the while keeping a close eye on Paul. The kid had grit. Mack began to think maybe he’d underestimated him. It would be embarrassing since he had Javier as a perfect example of how not to judge a book by its proverbial cover. Javier looked sweet and innocent. Women tended to want to cuddle and protect him. The man was as lethal as one could get. Was Paul the same way?

Had the kid been sitting right in the middle of his team, rubbing shoulders day in and day out, camouflaged in lamb’s wool, fooling all of them? He certainly hadn’t raised any warnings. Or had he? Mack kept chewing, keeping his face expressionless.

He had wondered from the beginning at the orders. He’d argued about the danger of bringing a new man into an experienced team. They knew one another, could communicate telepathically, not have to use radios, but Sergeant Major had been adamant.

“How often do you report to Sergeant Major?” Mack asked casually.

The kid’s fingers tightened around his fork, but he sent Mack a puzzled glance.

“You talking to me, Top?”

“Do you see anyone else who sends reports to Sergeant Major?”

“I haven’t spoken a word to him, Top.”

Mack watched the kid put a forkful of lasagna into his mouth and chew as though nothing was wrong, but he’d scored. Paul hadn’t lied. But he didn’t need to break silence to report.

“Why didn’t you volunteer that you had computer skills? It isn’t in your jacket.”

Ethan nudged him playfully. “You a secret agent, boy? James f**kin’ Bond? Bet you have a souped-up car hidden and maybe a cape.”

The table erupted in laughter. “That’s Batman, dope,” Jacob jeered. “Bond gets all the women.”

Ethan slapped his forehead and laughed with the others. “I always get that wrong.”

The easy camaraderie and teasing that included Paul put him off balance more than Mack’s questions.

“You really good at computers?” Lucas asked curiously. “Like hacking into programs, writing them, all that stuff Javier and Jaimie can do?”

Paul nodded slowly. “I have a PhD in computer science, specializing in analysis of algorithms.”

“The hell you say,” Marc breathed in awe. “That sounds badass. Where’d you go to school?”

Paul looked smug. “Undergraduate work at CalTech, graduating magna cum laude. My PhD came from MIT.”

Mack sat back in his chair and regarded Paul steadily. “None of that was in your jacket.”

“No, Top.”

To his credit, the kid kept a straight face, but he was smirking inside. Mack didn’t have to see the smile to know. “Sergeant Major planted you on my team, and he doctored your background.”

Paul said nothing, just ate another forkful of lasagna. Marc slapped a twenty on the table. “I’m going to back the new guy. If he can pull the wool over our eyes for the last few weeks, then I’m betting Jaimie and Javier can’t break into his laptop.”

“I’ll take that bet,” Kane said, laying out his twenty. “Anyone else in?”

Ethan poked Paul with his elbow. “You really got letters at the end of your name, kid?”

“I do,” Paul said.

Ethan slammed down the twenty. “Javier hardly went to school. And Jaimie doesn’t have any of those letters.”

Mack tipped his chair back lazily. “Are you crazy, Ethan? She has three paragraphs’ worth of letters behind her name and three or four pages of awards. Javier didn’t need to go to a formal school. He worked with the best in the business and got his education hands-on, not to mention both of them are brilliant. You’re betting against them?”

Brian tossed his money over Ethan’s. “Jaimie graduated high school at eleven, you idiot. Jaimie, all the way. I’m in.”

“Jaimie did your homework for you,” Kane reminded.

“Where did she go to school?” Paul asked.

Mack deliberately smirked. “She received her B.A. summa cum laude from Columbia University.” He tipped his chair forward and looked into Paul’s eyes. “I believe that’s the highest honors there, kid. If I remember my Latin correctly, summa trumps magna any day, am I right?”

Kane grinned. “And don’t you think going to an Ivy League university instead of an engineering institute might give you a little more rounded education?”

“Not necessarily.” Paul sniffed. “If you want to play around with other things.”

“She was only what?” Mack turned his head toward Kane. “Sixteen or seventeen?”

“I don’t think she was even that old,” Kane replied.

“Where’d she get her PhD?” Paul asked, the smugness fading.

“She got her PhD from Stanford University.” Mack tipped back his chair again, balancing on the two back legs. “She specialized in artificial intelligence.” His grin was back. “AI sounds a whole lot sexier than ‘analysis of algorithms’ to me.”

“Is that good?” Ethan asked Paul. “Why would you want to be artificially intelligent? You’re the real thing, right?” His hand hovered over the twenty he’d thrown out.

Kane slapped his hand. “Back off, moron.”

“Don’t worry, Ethan,” Paul said. “This is all about encryption.”

Mack snorted. “And you’re feeling really confident that she doesn’t know much about that, right? Not her strong suit?”

Ethan groaned. “He’s taunting us, man. That’s not good.”

Marc rubbed his jaw. “Maybe we should change the bet. We could put a time limit on her. What does it usually take to do something like this? Minutes? Hours?”

“Try weeks or months,” Paul said. “Sometimes years, depending on the encryption.”

Mack and Kane exchanged a long look, smug amusement mixed with pride in their grins.